Words
by sugahcat
Summary: Aziraphale reflects on the way he felt after Crowley fell.


Hi, all! Wow, I'm finally coming back to writing Good Omens fics. It's been a while... I might even try and finish _Changes_. You never know. 

Ahem. This is just a one-shot, really, but it's connected to _Feelings_ so go read that too :) I adore reviews and I'll adore _you_ if you review. Thank you :)

Disclaimer:Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's and therefore not mine :(

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Words  
sugahcat 

Angels fall. Aziraphale knew that. He'd felt it, when his beautiful Kyriel had his wings torn from his back. Watching it, something had torn in him, too. It was horrible, almost a physical feeling which he now knew to be called 'pain'.

At first, he'd thought it far too simple a word for that awful feeling. Upon contemplation, however, he'd found it was a word with hidden nuances. At first sharp and almost uncouth, but something about it stayed with you long after - an uneasiness and wariness haunted you when the word had been spoken, just like with the emotion.

Pain was something Aziraphale didn't want to feel again.

And then he saw the demon Crawly for the first time, and if anything it hurt even more. It was like seeing a horrible parody of his soulmate: eyes that were once azure now a golden yellow with slitted pupils, lips that had once smiled with soft joy now twisted humourlessly, skin that was once flawless now marked on the arms and legs and down the spine with shining scales. New wings had grown, but though they looked like angel wings, the aura was wrong - inverted - and it made Aziraphale's heart ache to look at him.

It had been better - far better - when, just after the Fall, Aziraphale had seen the snake Crawly. He had known it was Kyriel, of course, but it was easier to ignore that fact when all he could see was a serpant.

Crawly had looked at him, his face unreadable, and Aziraphale felt a new emotion coming over him, stronger even than the pain. At the time, he hadn't known what it was, but he had since found it to be called 'anger'. This too was a good word - harsh, stronger at the beginning but lingering and bitter. Anger had caused him to turn from Crawly without a word and stalk off. He had heard Crawly call out him name but had ignored it, too angry to care whether or not his actions would hurt the demon. If demon's even had emotions.

And now, Aziraphale was seeing a different version of Crawly. The beginning of civilisation was something that both Heaven and Hell wanted to witness and various angels and demons had been sent to watch. It just so happened that both Aziraphale and Crawly were two of those.

Each of the celestial and infernal beings had been given a human body, so as not to upset the mortals, and now Aziraphale was looking at Crawly in his.

His eyes were still yellow; the eyes were the window to the soul and no amount of demonic illusion could change that. The body he was wearing was slim and tall, and dark hair fell past his waist. He was still beautiful, just as he had been as an angel; just as he was as a demon.

They'd only seen each other then in passing, as the demons and angels made their way to their assigned places on Earth. It had been a long time since then, and the anger had faded a little. Aziraphale wasn't so angry at Kyriel for Falling anymore, for leaving him with a gaping hole in his soul that would never heal, though a little anger would remain always. He had decided that since they were both immortal and would see each other on occasion throughout eternity they might as well try to be civil toward one another.

It may have been a while since he'd seen Crawly but he knew he was still on Earth somewhere. Civilisation was coming along nicely and both sides had decided to start to interfere. The angels would try and show the humans the path of righteousness and the demons would try and tempt them away from it. It seemed to be something of a stalemate so far - or rather, the humans didn't appear to be listening to either side and were continuing to do exactly as they pleased. Crawly was good at temptation - it was what he _did_, after all, and so he would still be on Earth. Aziraphale was still on Earth because he truly thought that humans were basically good - plus, he had a sneaking suspicion that going back to Heaven might result in some probing questions about exactly what he'd done with his flaming sword.

So they were both on Earth, and Aziraphale couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to see the demon again.

It turned out it didn't matter, because he did see him again. The angel was walking through the marketplace of the dusty desert town he was currently staying in when he saw a demonic aura out of the corner of his eye. Turning, eyes narrowed, he saw a pair of yellow eyes blink snakeishly at him from over the collar of a travelling cloak.

Crawly approached him.

"Hello, Aziraphale." Aziraphale nodded curtly and Crawly's lips curved, a smile without the emotion behind it. He swept a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "You're trying to save the humans from themselves?"

"I'm trying to guide them back onto the path they've strayed from."

They looked at one another for a long time. It had been a few hundred years since they'd first arrived on the planet and Aziraphale had only managed a raised eyebrow to acknowledge Crawly. Now he'd managed a whole sentance. Perhaps he'd be able to forgive the demon after all.

"And how is it going?"

Aziraphale paused, then shrugged. "The humans do as they will, whatever you say to them."

"Yeah, that free will thing is a bitch, isn't it?"

They looked at each other for a moment. Aziraphale thought that there was more implied in that statement than was said but he had no idea what it was and wasn't about to ask.

"Will you be staying here long?" He asked suddenly, not sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Crawly shrugged slim shoulders. "Who can say? As long as I have something to keep me here, I'll stay."

There was definately more implied that time and Aziraphale blinked in surprise. It wasn't possible that Crawly could care for him. If demon's did have emotion, they certainly couldn't feel things like love or tenderness. Perhaps Aziraphale was just misinterpreting him. Again, he didn't want to ask the demon to clarify. Because now Aziraphale was pondering the meaning of another word, wondering if he dared believe in it. This word was wonderfully apt. Simple, almost dreamy, soft but with unbelievable strength in it: hope.


End file.
